Memories, Onion Rings and Her Pub
by MeganBellaRoseBlack
Summary: Four years on and Alex is back living the life she longed for with Molly. Her boyfriend, Mark, is exactly what she wanted when she was a little girl; kind, considerate and sensitive. But she's not a little girl anymore and he's no longer what she wants. He's not Gene.


**A little (large) one shot for you all. **

**I hope you enjoy this offering in these times of very scarce Ashes fanfiction! **

**MBRB'xoxo**

January. 2013.

Alex Drake was feeling the effects of the night before.

Fully aware that she had had far too much to drink, she rolled over in her bed and flinched away from the sunlight that streamed through her window with apparently the soul purpose of antagonising and making Alex squirm. Cursing her flimsy curtains that did very little to actually block out light, she dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, let out an involuntary groan and buried her head further into the pillow in the vain hope that she would be able to claw back the sleep that had been stolen from her by the obnoxious sun.

Just as she felt the muchly appreciated sense of relaxation wash over her, signalling the beginning of sleep, she was awoken a second time by her bedroom door opening and a familiar face poking its head round her door, a smile plastered over tired features.

"I made you a coffee. I thought you might need it to help you wake up a little. And I brought you water." Trying to keep her eyes closed for as long as possible, she held back a groan and fixed a thankful smile on her face as she eventually gave up on the idea of sleep completely and resigned herself to the fact that her day had well and truly begun.

"Thanks, love," She said, pulling herself up to lean against the headboard and look at the figure that was now perching on the edge of her bed. Silence ensued as he looked at her, grinning, and then quickly glanced down to the mug and glass in his hands, holding them up as though giving a peace offering for waking her. Alex reached out for the coffee.

"Here you are." She couldn't deny that the smell of Douwe Egberts hitting her was tempting, and she reached out and took the steaming mug, careful not to spill it on her clean sheets.

"Good night then?"

Alex tried not to think about the memories that flashed before her at the question, split seconds of wine, dancing, shots, singing. Things that she was far too old to do but under the influence of her friend - that she was matching drink for drink - it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Yeah, not bad thanks," Was all she offered, bringing the mug in her hands up to sip at.

"Well, I'm off to Tesco to get some food in. D'you need anything? Hangover food? Any tablets?" He grinned at her, moving around to her side of the bed and placing the glass of water down beside her on the bedside table.

"Cheese and onion crisps and Morphine?" Alex asked hopefully over the rim of the cup. She received a chuckle from Mark as he lent forward and dropped a kiss on her lips.

"I'll see what I can do." With a wink, he left the room, slamming the door a little too loudly. "Sorry!" Came the call from outside that sounded more amused than apologetic.

"Bastard!" She called back, instantly regretting her volume as a surge of pain shot through her head.

The coffee in her hands was replaced with the glass of water and she took a sip, wishing she had had more water the night before. Maybe her head wouldn't be so tender now if she had. Making a mental note to text Gracey and end their friendship on the grounds of corruption, she sighed and began to contemplate the pros and cons of dragging herself out of bed.

x-x-x-x

Only the streetlamps dared to interrupt the darkness that surrounded the Manc Lion. Except he wasn't sure that he was the Lion anymore. If the people that had given you a nickname were gone, did it still belong to you? Do the people that surround you really make you who you are?

He had never thought so before, but now he wasn't so sure. With a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, he felt calmer than he had done all day. This was more like it. Him and his office; his thoughts and the Demon Drink as company. No matter how fast the world spun around him, there were some things that he could rely on.

One hand in his pocket, he looked out at the street below, Not much had changed, really. Saturday night and drunks still occasionally stumbled down the street in the search of home, rain still spattered the window and those bloody streetlights still flickered far too often. It was only when he turned away from the window and looked out onto his kingdom that the change was really noticeable.

But he tried not to dwell on that. He was aware that he did in fact dwell on it far too much, but he tried not to. If you didn't acknowledge change, then it wasn't happening. It was a rule he had been living by for a long time and one that he would continue to live by. It had worked before and it would damn well work now. Why fix what ain't broke?

x-x-x-x

"Do you think that you would have got him a Christmas present?" Molly asked with genuine curiosity, leaning across the table to reach for the butter.

"Who?" Alex asked, her head lent on the palm of one hand and a fresh coffee cradled in the other.

"James," She answered, a little crease of confusion appearing between her brows as soon as she had said it. Alex looked at her with a similar expression of puzzlement. "No...Gene." That was it. Alex let out an "oh" of comprehension.

"I don't know...Maybe. I don't think he was really a present kind of person," She pondered. Molly let out a small laugh.

"Another thing to add to the grumpy list; "Isn't a present person". What kind of person isn't a present kind of person?" she seemed jestingly outraged at the idea and Alex smiled across at her.

"The imaginary construct kind of person."

"Ahh, of course. Silly me," Molly said with a sudden mock understanding.

"Silly you indeed," Alex winked, leaning over and plucking a piece of toast from Molly's plate while deftly avoiding the hand slapping her away. There was a pause between the pair and then;

"He wasn't a construct though...was he?" she asked, uncertainty in her question. Her and her Mother hadn't spoken about Gene for a while now and the details that she had been told so clearly were beginning to blur. He was beginning to seem like a beautiful fairytale in her head that she had been told by someone when they were captured by the magic that was now beginning to fade, and the story with it.

"I don't think he was, Molls. No." Molly took a bite of toast, mulling over the story of Fenchurch - what she could remember of it.

"You don't really talk about him anymore...Are you forgetting him?" Although not really a child anymore, there was still the almost childlike, innocent bluntness to Molly's question that cut at Alex. The last thing she had wanted to do was to forget Gene - or any of the others - but Molly had hit the nail on the head with painful accuracy. She'd told her all about waking up in 1981 and her stories of her "constructs", limiting her tales to Molly and herself at the risk of sounding crazy to the psychologist that she had been assigned, but the minor details were close to vanishing and the larger parts of her world were being chipped away at and crumbling much quicker than she liked to admit. Shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts, Alex looked into the questioning gaze of her child.

"I think I am," She said, summoning a smile for Molly's benefit but finding that the gesture felt somewhat out of place and grotesque, what with the sudden realisation that had settles, leaden and stale, in the bottom of her stomach.

Noting the tone of her mother's voice, Molly dropped her eyes to the toast that sat in front of her. She knew how much her "other life" - as Molly liked to call it - meant to her, and to forget it must be like losing a chunk of your life. Molly couldn't really comprehend what her mother had been through in the 80s, but the way that her face had lit up while recounting her tales after having just woken up - Molly would always be grateful to Gene Hunt.

She sometimes thought that telling her about the strange man and his kingdom was the only thing that had gotten her mum through the months after her coma. She'd often said how crazy she knew it sounded but, "Molly, they were just so real." Well, constructs or not, the smile that flared in her eyes when she spoke of them was definitely real, and the small mannerisms that she had mysteriously picked up since waking made Molly think that perhaps her mum really had been stuck in another world - who was she to say what went on in this universe?

But Molly had never heard her mother use so many metaphors or expletives before in her entire life, and that couldn't have just come from having a prolonged lie-in…could it?

x-x-x-x

"Tea. Five Sugars. Mush," He ordered to nobody in particular as he walked through the doors of CID and headed straight to his office without so much as a glance at his team. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw at least three of the team jump to their feet to make the demanded coffee and couldn't help but roll his eyes as he reached his door. Turning to glare at them all momentarily, he eyeballed the dark haired DC that had been the quickest and therefore half way to the kitchen already. Poofs. He still semi-expected to hear a chorus of "Shaz" go up in the office when he gave out an order, but the thought that he was still attached on his old team was more than unsettling.

He knew that he needed to move on and focus on this new bunch of rookies, but the faces of his A team lingered in his mind, refusing to budge in their bloody stubborn, infuriating way. As was the law of this land, as soon as they had moved out, their graves had been jumped in with much enthusiasm and Gene had been left with an irritatingly submissive and effective team. They did exactly as they were told, turned up on time, kept interoffice arguments very much out of the office and always came up with bloody sensible suggestions and conclusions.

Gene didn't know how much more of it he could take.

As the dark haired DC carried his coffee across CID, walking slowly and never moving his eyes off the mug to ensure that it didn't spill onto the checkered floor, Gene had had enough. Getting up from his desk, he ripped open the door and stood with his hands buried in his pockets, shoulders back.

"Right," he began, his voice booming. The DC - Wallace, was it? - jumped at the sound and spilled the coffee he had so carefully been carrying, letting out a small yelp. "It's been two days and this little shit is still throwing dodgy crack at any teen with a brain small enough to think it's a fantabby idea to kill the few cells they have left in their heads. Why isn't he in the cells?" There was a flurry of movement as numerous members of CID grabbed files and jostled to make their point.

"His alibis are firm, Guv. We've been to houses of all known buyers and they've said that they can't provide any information. All "forgotten". But Smithson paid one kid - Vivvy?" Smithson nodded, "a visit this morning and we think she's gonna be the weak link, right Lou?" Louis Smithson piped up, eager to tell Hunt about the apparent weak link.

"Yeah. Yeah, she was all fidgety, like. She won't be hard to crack, Guv. We're gonna bring her in tomorrow morning and keep her here all day. Girl like that won't be able to take it. She'll spill something before the day's out." Gene remained at the door of his office, arms crossed, looking particularly unimpressed.

"You're going to bring her in tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Smithson nodded, pleased with himself. Gene paused, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

"It's two o' clock. Why the hell isn't she in now? Why have you found one girl out of over twenty kids that you think is 'weak'. They're all weak! They're TEENAGERS! And what, am I supposed to be impressed? You're all sat there with happy little faces. You're police officers, not bookies. You can't sit back and let the hard work just happen! Get off your arses and do some work! Bang down every door of every snout, crack brat and parent until someone tells us which wanker is getting these kids hooked!" He yelled, then turned on his crocodile skin heels and stormed into his office, slammed the door and stood listening to what was being said about him.

x-x-x-x

With Molly out with a friend, Alex decided that today was definitely a day that should be spent lying on a sofa watching crap TV. It was a pastime that she was pretty sure she didn't like doing "before", but now she sometimes longed for a few moments that could be filled with the sound of ridiculous theme tunes and tinned laughter.

Mark would be back soon and no doubt make some jocular remark about her always having her feet up, but he wouldn't mean it and a look from Alex will put an end to his comments. It always did. It was a character trait of the oh-so-sweet Mark that was, frankly, beginning to piss her off. He was so attentive and caring that she felt guilt eating at her whenever she found herself bating him for an argument. She knew that Mark was her perfect match; a workaholic businessman that ate healthy lunches, went to the gym three times a week, brought home trinkets and gifts that caught his eye for her and Molly and, when an argument was brewing, his self-control was impeccable. He was the kind of man that truly was one in a million. And it was infuriating.

Since her teens, Alex had longed for someone that had every aspect of Mark's personality, and to find an actual human being that was her "dream man" wrapped in a toned body and blonde hair that never fell out of place was out of this world. But that was the problem. Alex had been out of this world and now... Now she wasn't sure that was what she wanted. He was kind enough and doted on Molly, but when Alex wanted someone to stand nose to nose with, there was nothing else that could substitute.

The door closed as the titles for the Corrie Omnibus started and she heard some keys being placed down on the side.

"Alright, babe?" She heard being called through to her. Knowing she was being unreasonable but unable to stop herself, she felt her blood boiling slightly at the pet name. She hated being called 'babe' but she tried to keep it down as she slapped a smile on her make-up free face.

"Yeah, in here," She called back at a level that was no louder than necessary, so as not to irritate her still sensitive head. Mark appeared in the doorway, a plastic Tesco bag in his hand that he began to rummage through.

"Lift," he told her, motioning to her legs that were up on the sofa. Instead of lifting her feet so she could then rest them on his lap, as he had intended, she curled them up beneath her so that he could sit down.

"I got you..." He paused, taking a green packet out of the bag. "Onion rings," he tossed them over to her, "and some tablets. Want some water for these?" He held a packet of ibuprofen up to her and she nodded her head thankfully, tearing open the pack of onion rings he had got her and thanking him. Instead of getting the water as she thought he would, he reached out and laid a hand on her curled up knee.

"Babe..."

For god's sake.

"I was thinking as I was coming back..." He seemed hesitant and Alex's interest was piqued. He was usually so certain with his words, and so to hear him now as if he were trying to piece together his sentence was intriguing.

"We've been together for a while now. Molly and I get on great and I practically live here anyway..." She could instantly see where this was going. Mark had a key to the house, yes, but she had purposely never asked him to move in with her. It was a commitment that she had been reluctant to make and, besides, she liked her own space - with Molly, of course - and to be able to live in her own home, safe in the liked her own space - with Molly, of course - and to be able to live in her own home, safe in the knowledge that everything was how she wanted was something she wasn't really very willing to give up.

Shifting in her seat slightly, she sat up a little more and waited for him to continue. "Well, I was just thinking that it's crazy for me to be coming and going practically every day and ... Well, my place is so much smaller. I..." He sighed and coughed a little. "I was just thinking that perhaps it would be time for me to move in?"

A silence followed his words that was far from comfortable and Alex found herself staring down at the hand still resting on her thigh and chewing on an onion ring in a way that would have been comical had the situation been different. What could she say? An outright "no" would surely hurt him, but there was nothing she wanted less.

"Well… the thing is, Mark... I don't know if Molly would be able to adjust to having a man around again. She's never had her dad living with her, so…it'd be a bit of a shock..." She trailed off, leaving her words floating in the air.

Mark looked devastated and a deep sigh fell from his lips. "I practically live here anyway, Ali" - that was another name that really rubbed her up the wrong way - "but it's down to you, of course". And that was it. No argument. No protestation. Nothing.

Alex couldn't help feeling that something was missing. Although not one to think she was anything particularly special, surely she was worth more of a fight than that? Before she could stop herself, a thought struck her and she found words tumbling from her mouth with no filter to keep them at bay.

"In fact, I think it's best if we call it a day."

Mark looked at her as if she had whacked him with a mallet. Alex herself looked surprised at her words. Although sure he wouldn't be someone she would marry and spend the rest of her life with, Mark had been...okay, and she hadn't really contemplated breaking up with him before the three previous seconds. But the words were suddenly let loose and there was nothing she could do to take them back.

"Alex I... I don't understand. Is this really what you want?" There was something about the stricken man in front of her that made her realise that perhaps this was exactly what she wanted.

"I think it's probably about time, Mark" she told him softly. Mark sat where he was, not a muscle moving in his body. His eyes were trained on her face in a stare that quickly became uncomfortable, but other than his blank expression, he gave no indication to what he was thinking.

"I... I just don't know what to say" was what he eventually came out with and Alex found herself giving a small, bitter laugh.

"Well say something for gods sake. I've just ended our 3 year relationship." Once again, she startled herself with her coldness but as soon as she realised that Mark really did have absolutely nothing to say, she knew exactly why she had done it. If he couldn't summon up any form of passion or opinion when such a bombshell had been dropped on him, they really were going nowhere. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and he gave out a few short noises that made him sound, frankly, ridiculous, until he eventually settled on,

"I don't know what to say, Ali. I don't know what you want me to say." She almost yelled with frustration.

"That's the point, Mark! I don't care what you say as long as you say something!" She took a calming breath and then lent over to catch his hand in hers. "I just... You don't have any fight in you, Mark. I need an argument!" Mark seemed unable to grasp her point, continuing to look as dumbfounded as before.

"But..." He seemed to grasp around for something to say. "I brought you onion rings. And tablets. I thought we were okay?" Alex threw herself up from the sofa and stood above him briefly before she started pacing up and down in front of him, a hand running through her hair.

"That's the thing, Mark! You think we're okay and you're lovely. You really are. You're quiet and gentle and..." She tried to find the word "peaceful! But what, am I supposed to be impressed? Relationships aren't supposed to be happy all the time. They're not smooth and calm. That makes

them dead" she wasn't sure if she was explaining herself very well, but as she paced up and down, her hands flying wildly around her, she could think of no better way to say it except from saying I need a bloody good argument once in a while, man! When she saw that she was clearly not going to get a response from the man, she carried on. "You can't just sit back and let a relationship happen. You need to make it work. Fight and make up etcetera. Make something happen. Make it memorable." She finished with an exhasperated sigh. Mark still seemed to have nothing to say until she left the silence to expand so much that he apparently felt he really had to.

"You don't think we're memorable?" He asked her sadly. Alex closed her eyes and tried to keep her temper under control. After all that, he asked her that question. This really was for the best. Trying to remember that he really didn't deserve a manic Alex - he'd done nothing to warrant it. Literally - she took a deep breath and stopped her pacing in front of him. With her arms crossed over her chest, she sighed heavily.

"I don't think we were. No." She told him quietly, her soft tone sounding even weaker in comparison to her previously strong words. Mark took a second and then rose to his feet and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Goodbye then, Alex" he told her, his voice feeble and dejected. He lingered beside her for a second, taking in the face that he so loved. "I hope your head feels better" he whispered. Alex forced down a harsh comment and instead nodded and gave him a quiet "Goodbye, Mark" I return.

As the door of her house closed, Alex threw herself down on the sofa and took a moment to think over the last couple of minutes. Plucking an onion ring from the packet, she contemplated it for a second and the popped it in her mouth with an eye roll.

Three years and all he could say was "Hope your head gets better" ?!

Sheesh.

x-x-x-x

Sometimes he dreamt about her. Not in the way that she was the focus, the center, the meaning of his dreams. But it came to the point where he was no longer surprised that she was there. On the edges. Often, he wouldn't even see her but he could tell she was there. There were always signs.

She never did leave anything the way she found it.

Her coat would be next to his on a clothes peg or there would be that ridiculous round mug with the stupid feet left on a sideboard, half drunk coffee long cold. Someone saying words that were clearly stolen from her mouth. Even when she wasn't there, she usually was.

He always found that when he woke, it was the hints of her that slipped away first. He could grasp them for a moment or two in the limbo world that one is in just after they wake up, but the coats, the mugs, the words. They all twisted through his fingers and eluded him when he tried to focus on them.

Much like the woman herself, he supposed.

Time seemed to move differently now. Coffee breaks lasted longer than stake outs. A pint lasted longer than a days work. Sleep never lasted long enough. He tried to stop planning, stop looking forward or looking back. He started to take life as it came, dealing with each hurdle as it approached, and he found that it helped.

For a while.

Sure, cases were solved and there was still the unwritten rule of a drink together at the end of the day, but his heart was no longer in it. He didn't think he had brought a single drink since the day that his team - his _real _team - had left. Each evening he would prop up the bar as the newbies whispered amongst themselves as to whos turn it was to buy a double whiskey for the Guv. A glass would be placed in front of him and a few words exchanged if the poor sod was feeling particularly daring, but then they'd scuttle back to their corner and there they'd stay. Gene, on the other hand, would look down at the amber liquid with contempt, throw it back, maybe stare into the abyss that was the bottom of his glass for a while but on finding no answers, he'd throw his coat over his shoulders and be on his way.

He imagined how smug he would have been if the A team had taken it in turns to provide him with a drink each night. For a while he thought it would have been heavenly, but he soon realised that perhaps it wouldn't have been as marvallous as it seemed. When they got to the pub, they had been equal. The days arguments were put behind them (usually) and they weren't different ranks any more. They were coppers at the end of another hard day and they were friends.

That dynamic was gone now. Barriers didn't fall as they stepped through the doors and he could no longer pull a cheer out of a miserable group by simply shouting out a faux-reluctant "next round's on me then". He wasn't sure they'd know what to do with that these days.

And so he'd make his way home sober and drank himself into oblivion.

It never seemed to work quite how he wanted it to.

x-x-x-x

Alex slipped a coat on over her shoulders and called out for Molly who appeared at the top of the stairs.

"I'm not going to be too late, Molls. You'll be alright, won't you?" she called up. Molly nodded and then seemed to consider saying something. Alex waited for her daughter to speak.

"Mum..." the girl made her way down the stairs and then sat on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Molly..." Alex mocked, taking a seat next to her and looking at her, studying her daughters face.

"About Gene," she started and then seemed to loose the words that she was about to say.

"Yes?" Alex prompted gently. It wasn't often that she and Molly spoke about her life in the coma and they hadn't mentioned Gene at all for what seemed like a long time - other than their small discussion about what a grump he was.

"Was he...Is he still clear to you? I know you said you were forgetting him, but how much can you remember?" Alex had a flash of his dark coat and the smell of whiskey before she could even process the question.

"Why, Molls?" she asked, wondering where this sudden interest was coming from.

"Just... you ending it with Mark. He would have been perfect for you... before" They both knew what she meant by 'before'. "I just thought that maybe it was because of you and Gene. I don't want you forgetting him if he means so much to you. I know I never really understood what happened when you were... asleep... and I don't think I ever will, but I know that he means a lot to you. He's changed who you are. I don't want you to forget the reason that you are today" Alex looked down at her daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, sighing.

"When did you get so deep, Miss?" she asked her, a touch of sadness in her voice. Molly didn't reply, only waited for her mum to speak.

"Gene was... Gene was bigger than life, Molls. I hated him. He was one of those people that you can't stand. But he brought me round in the end. When he'd put that glass of wine in front of me and give me a look that said the arguments were over..." she faded away, looking up into the face of Hunt in her daydream for a second. "He was something else" she finished, pressing a kiss to Mollys temple.

"Did you love him?" it was something that she had suspected for a long time, but Molly had never asked her mother exactly how she felt about the mysterious man. Alex paused. Had she? Did she?

"I don't know, Molly. All I wanted to do when I was there was to get back to you. I don't think I thought too much about how I was feeling about the people there. I thought them constructs for half the time"

"And the other half of the time?" Molly asked. Alex didn't know.

"I think I thought of them as people" she said. The memories were still hazy but she could remember the idea of Shaz, Chris and Ray. She remembered Keats and a cheery Italian to whom she owed an awful lot of money.

"Did Gene love you?" The question was one that Alex had asked herself many times when she had returned to the 'real' world and she had never quite found an answer. She wasn't quite sure which were memories and which were hazy imaginings of the man whose feelings were so confused.

"I'm not sure, Molls. I don't think he knew what he felt. If he did, I don't think he loved me. I was a different woman when I was there" Molly detected the sadness in her mothers voice as she thought of the vague memory of woman with a carefree laugh and a habit for drinking.

"Do you miss her?"

There was a pause.

"I don't know"

x-x-x-x

After her conversation with Molly, Alex was feeling on edge. She'd tried to conjure up the image of Gene as she walked through the streets of London, but the man seemed distant. His eyes weren't quite right and there was something about him missing... a certain aura that was so very Gene. Eventually she decided that yes, she was going to go back to the pub that she hadn't visited in such a very long time. Down a backstreet, she pushed the doors open and smiled at the barman who waved her a casual hello before he went back to polishing his glass. He wasn't one to spill your problems out to, but he had a comforting way about him that made you feel at home when you were here. It was how Alex felt now. As a glass of white was placed in front of her and money paid, a man held an iphone to his ear and mumbled something about being home soon. Alex couldn't keep the small smile off her face. She knew how the man felt. Here was a place to escape the world. When that escape was broken by reality it wasn't pleasant. She didn't blame him for mumbling his responses and sighing heavily as he hung up.

Looking around, it struck her how different this place was to the one that she had known in her other life. She wondered what - shit, what was his name? - would think of the TV that provided a constant source of noise sitting on the corner of the bar. She knew that there had been a TV at Luigis - _that was it. Luigi - _but it as very rarely used. She couldn't remember a time when this bar hadn't had the TV playing football or informing punters of the news happening outside their little bubble of peace. In here, Alex felt like her worlds were mixing, blending together. It was strange because the two places couldn't have been more different, but if it weren't for the far too modern clothes and aforementioned constant noise of the television, maybe she would have been able to fool herself into thinking that she could drown her sorrows in a bottle or three and then crawl back to her flat upstairs.

At least, she had been able to convince herself of her fantasy before. The times she had been here when she had just woken up were different. There was something missing now.

Or someone.

"Jesus Christ, how long do I have to wait here until you get me a bloody drink, woman?" A man slumped down on the stool beside her and she felt his intense gaze studying her face. Alex looked down instead of at him, trying to keep the smile from her lips but failing miserable.

"Piss off, Gene"

"Oh well that's very nice isn't it." He took a sip of the drink that he already had and left the silence t stretch between them, knowing that she would be the one to break it if he left it long enough.

"I didn't think you'd be here"

"Bollocks. You knew I would. That's why you're here, Bolly"

"I don't even know if you're real, Gene. How am I supposed to believe that you're here? You're back in my coma world in the 1980s. How are you here?" Gene sighed and then his hand disappeared from above the bar and Alex felt a sharp pain, yelping and pulling away from here. He's pinched her arse. Hard.

"I'm as real as this shitty pint, Bols. Believe what you want. You know I'm here." She sighed. She had hoped that he would be here, there was no denying that. But she hadn't been sure. It had been so long since she had last visited this pub and a lot can change in that time. She thought perhaps she had left him behind and moved on, thought maybe the blurry memories would mean he would no longer be sat at this bar waiting for her. But she'd been wrong. She could see his eyes perfectly again and she didn't realise how bloody relieved she would be.

"You've not come to see me for a while. Or do I keep on missing you?" He knew that he wasn't just missing her. They weren't ships in the night, passing eachother by at the wrong time. They both knew she'd been avoiding him and it took her a moment to collect her thoughts and actually answer him.

"I didn't know if I could see you anymore, Gene. I spend so long here when I woke up. I'd see you every night and I was abandoning Molly. I spent so long searching for a way to come back to her and I finally get here and what do I do? Spend all my time waiting to see you. It wasn't fair on her and it was driving me crazy. Leaving each night and saying goodbye to you killed me. I couldn't do it anymore. I went cold turkey and thought that perhaps if I stopped coming to see you I'd forget about you and it would all just be my 'other' life that I didn't need anymore." she paused and took a sip of wine.

"Did it work?" Gene asked, his voice rough and so like the Gene that she had known.

"For a while. I mean, I had to resist coming for so long. I made plans that I couldn't get out of and took tablets so I went to sleep just before the bar opened. But I got there in the end. I didn't need to come and see you anymore and then I started forgetting you. Finally. Turns out that forgetting is even worse than remembering." She gave a bitter laugh and focused on the wine swirling in her glass. She didn't want to meet his eyes but she could still feel that intense look, watching her every move.

"I thought I was pretty unforgettable, actually"

"Oh you were" Alex told him with a small scoff. "You were. Took me a couple of years to even start forgetting you, you know. But then when the edges became blurry and the memories hazy...that was even worse than being haunted by them. I thought that perhaps you'd be here and... well .I couldn't stay away anymore." Gene listened to her and then raised his eyesbrows as she finished, sniffed, and then drank deeply from his pint.

"Irresistible" he said plainly. Alex laughed.

"Irresistible" she agreed with an eyeroll.

"Don't you wanna know why I'm here?" he asked. Alex looked up with interest and nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Hung up the snakeskin boots, didn't I. Went and gave it up. I dunno if the scum is getting quicker, Bolls, but I think it's me that's getting slower. Couldn't keep doing that job for much longer. My heart wasn't in it anyway. My team was gone and I just didn't care anymore." Alex couldn't have been more bowled over if she had tried to be. Give up the job? Gene? She never thought she'd see the day. She was sure he'd be out catching the criminals until the day he died. "There's someone else ruling over Fenchurch now and all I can say is good bloody luck to her. It's not an easy job, ya know." Alex thought over his words for a second.

"Her?"

"What?"

"You said 'good luck to _her_'. Don't tell me you left a woman in charge?!" Gene frowned.

"Don't let it be said I didn't learn anything from you, Madam Fruitcake. She was bloody good and anyway, I'm pretty sure she's a beaver muncher. More manly than me. Need someone full of testosterone to run that station, I'm telling you. Are you gonna focus on the great leap for womankind here, or actually pay attention to what I told you?" he said irritably. Alex took another glug of her drink to calm herself.

"So you're here. You came to the pub"

"Nope. I came to _your _pub"

"Jesus Christ, Gene," she sighed, becoming exasperated with this conversation. "Just tell me why the hell you're here. You should be done. How are you here with me?"

"Well I walked to the Railway Arms and bloody Nelson turned me away. "Not here, Mon Brave" or some bollocks, and he directed me this way. Told me my job's done but I wasn't finished yet. So here I come and who do I see but Mrs Sulkyknickers propping up the bar with a face like a slapped arse and so here we are." Alex felt her heart pounding in her chest. Surely he didn't mean that... no. She wouldn't allow herself to think it. She'd only end up crushed again.

"Am I going to have to leave you again?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Gene didn't answer. "When I woke up and you where here each night... I don't think I can forget you again, Gene"

"Might not have to, Bolly. We'll see, shall we?" he downed the last of his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar, standing up. Alex pushed her glass aside and stood next to him, holding out her hand as she did. To her surprise, he took it.

"Is there room for me here, Alex? You have your little girl and I don't want to ruin that. It wouldn't be fair. Nelson will probably let me in if I tell him I tried and I know I did what I had to." Alex smiled softly at the rough manner of his words, the gruff man she knew hiding his more sensitive side that she knew existed deep, deep, deep down.

"I spent so long trying to get back to Molly and when I did, you were always there on my mind. My two worlds have collided and I've managed to withstand it all, Gene. I've got you both. I'm sure I can try and fit you in somewhere. She'd love to meet you, you know. She wants to know if you're a 'Christmas kinda guy' or not" Alex chuckled at Gene's confused expression. He shook his head as if shaking away her words.

"You don't half talk some shite, woman" he told her rolling his eyes. He started to move towards the double doors of the pub and stopped for a split second, looking over to her standing by his side.

Their eyes met and she gave the tiniest of nods.

Together, with their hands that weren't entwined, they pushed the double doors open with force and walked through onto the streets of London.

_fin. _


End file.
